


Anything you say can and will be held against you (So only say my name)

by campingwiththecharmings



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:51:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3088997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/campingwiththecharmings/pseuds/campingwiththecharmings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(CS AU) Emma Swan celebrates the New Year (and her awesome knew job offer) by dancing, drinking, and taking home a hot, English bartender.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything you say can and will be held against you (So only say my name)

**Author's Note:**

> AN: No one asked for this but I've had at least a part of this plot bunny hopping around in my brain for months so. Figured New Year's was as good a time as any to write it lol. Hope y'all enjoy~ 
> 
> (Un-beta'ed)

Her hips sway back and forth to the beat of the song pumping through the overhead speakers. She closes her eyes and tosses her head back as she loses herself in the music, her heart beating wildly in time with the bass thumping in her chest.

The dance floor is crowded, the smell in the air a blend of sweat, alcohol, and cheap perfume. Her long blonde hair is tangled and sticking to the back of her sweaty neck, her shoes are making her feet ache from prolonged standing and dancing, and she might be just a _tad_ drunk, but _damn_ is she having a great time.

Emma doesn’t come to clubs like this often (or _ever_ really), but it’s New Year’s Eve and her friends had wanted to go out for once…plus, she _just_ got that job offer from Gold and Associates (Boston’s most prestigious law firm).

So sue her, she’s celebrating.

She doesn’t know how long they’ve been there exactly, in fact, she seems to have lost track of time completely (though, the fact that no one has started counting tells her it’s probably not midnight just yet).

Someone bumps into her suddenly, knocking her off her balance and throwing her into the latest douche that’s been trying to grope her for the last half hour. Emma doesn’t stick around to see his reaction, quickly extricating herself from his grasp with a muttered apology and slightly stumbling toward the bar in search of her friends.

She spots Ruby almost immediately, the combination of the red streaks in her brown mane and her sequined, red mini dress causing her to stand out from the crowd. She’s flanked by three men of varying degrees of hotness and throwing her head back in what’s most likely an exaggerated laugh.

Emma smirks in amusement and shakes her head; at least one of their group was getting kissed at midnight.

Her other friends, Aurora and Ella, are both in committed relationships (like, I’m-so-in-love-with-you-no-one-else-even-turns-my-head committed) so they’ll probably just end up calling their respective partners come midnight.

The whole ‘midnight kiss’ thing has always been a silly concept to her, and it’s really _not_ something she’s longing to partake in or anything, but she’s feeling so _good_ tonight and there’s a small, _small_ part of her that maybe, kind of _wants_ to just grab some random guy and kiss him as the clock chimes twelve.

Let’s just say that she’s not ruling it out.

“What’ll you have, love?” asks an accented, male voice to her right.

She jumps in surprise and swivels her head toward him, her green eyes widening slightly as they meet his.

 _So blue_.

There is a pause as their eyes stay locked and Emma has to mentally shake herself to break away from it.

“Oh, uh,” she begins, shifting awkwardly on her aching feet, “A water?”

A smile spreads slowly across his face (which is just as striking as his eyes, God help her) as he gives her a quick once over. “You don’t sound so sure about that choice.”

She huffs a quick laugh and self-consciously smooths the imaginary wrinkles out of her black, backless dress. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m not.”

He continues smiling as he nods, absently wetting his lips and leaning his forearms against the top of the counter. “Perhaps I should take a guess?” he asks, playfully quirking an eyebrow.

Emma studies him for a moment, considering whether or not she wants to go down this particular road.

She quickly decides she does.

“Perhaps you should,” she answers, biting her bottom lip as she too leans against the top of the bar, bringing herself so close she can smell his aftershave.

His gaze darkens slightly as it falls on her mouth. “As you wish,” he says simply, the low hoarseness of his tone causing heat to pool in her belly.

He returns a few minutes later, a tall beer glass in one hand and a shot in the other. He sets the beer on the bar when he reaches the part she’s still leaning on, dumps the shot into the beer, and slides it over to her.

She looks from him to the glass a few times before casually pulling it toward her. “And this is?”

“An Irish Car Bomb,” he smiles, holding her eyes and rolling his sleeves of his white, collared shirt up to his elbows, “You’ll like it, I promise.”

Emma eyes the drink briefly before meeting his gaze again and bringing the glass to her lips. “Bottoms up then, I guess.”

It’s bitter and it burns her throat a bit as she swallows, but it’s refreshing all the same. She places the glass down heavily on the table after a few gulps, licking her lips to keep the liquid from running down her chin. “Not bad. Good call, barkeep.”

He shrugs modestly and leans toward her on the counter once more. “Everyone has to have a skill, I suppose,” he tells her, his eyes never wavering as he absently drums his fingers on the bar, “Name’s Killian, by the way.”

She hides a smile behind her glass as she takes another quick sip of her drink. “Emma,” she says, offering her hand to him.

Killian’s eyes flicker from her face to her hand as he grasps the latter and turns it so he can press a light kiss on the back. “Lovely to meet you, Emma,” he says softly, his breath fanning out across her skin.

She swallows thickly as he releases her hand, his gaze flickering back up to meet hers. “Likewise,” she breathes, a shiver running up her spine at the look in his eyes.

“Anything else I can do for you, lass?” he asks smoothly, suggestively sliding tongue across his bottom lip.

She resists the urge to rub her thighs together at the fire in his eyes and leans so they’re mere inches apart. “I can think of a few things, actually,” she whispers, her tone full of promise.

A delicious smirk stretches across his face as he reaches over to finger a rebellious curl. “My place or yours?”

* * *

She struggles to unlock the door, the feel of his fingers caressing the bared skin of her back, of his mouth leaving hot kisses on the back of her neck apparently causing her to forget how a key works.

Turns out her place was closer.

They stumble over the threshold as she _finally_ gets her key to work, hastily dropping her things to the floor and turning in his hold. She presses him against the door as it closes, dragging his lips to hers with one hand and locking them in with the other.

She feels his groan as their lips connect and slide over each other. His hands find their way into her hair as he gently angles her head and nibbles on her bottom lip. She moans in delight, desire rushing through her, and presses herself against his lean, hard body. Emma opens her mouth and teases the seam of his lips with the tip of her tongue, her breath catching when his tangles with hers. Her hands seem to have a mind of their own, running themselves up and down his chest one minute and anchoring themselves in his thick hair the next.

Her back hits the wall and she briefly wonders when in the hell they’d started moving, but then he’s dragging his lips over her chin, down her neck, and he’s lightly nipping at the skin of her throat and it’s all she can to do keep standing. She whimpers as he trails a few opened mouth kisses over her collarbone, her fingers pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck as he worries a bruise into her skin. Her hips rock against him, her left leg wrapping itself around his calf in an effort to bring him closer.

“Bedroom?” he asks breathlessly, moaning suddenly against her skin when she thrusts against him at _just_ the right angle.

“Second door on the left,” she gasps, his fingers splaying across her back as he brings his lips back to fuse with her own.

They somehow make it to her room without killing themselves, and she turns them so that Killian’s back is to the bed, pushing him down when they get close enough. He’s breathing heavily, his eyes brimming with lust as they take each other in; his hair is mussed from her fingers, his formerly crisp shirt is wrinkled from where she’s fisted her hands in it, and his lips are bruised and red from the ferocity of their kissing.

She’s sure she looks just as wrecked.

“C’mere, love,” he whispers darkly, sitting up on the edge of the bed and beckoning her with a curve of his finger.

Emma says nothing as she ambles slowly over to him, her gaze never wavering from his. His hands find her waist as soon as she’s close enough, pulling her toward him and settling her between his open legs. He pulls her into another kiss; this one is slower, gentler, but just as intense.

Her hands settle on his shoulders for balance as _his_ stray from her waist and find the zipper holding her dress closed. He pulls it down, his fingers brushing the newly exposed skin and sending shivers up her spine. She moans into his mouth as he skims his hands up her back, grasps the edges of her dress, and pulls them down. She steps back enough to let the dress fall without breaking their kiss and kicks the dress away with her still-shoed feet.

She hears Killian’s breath catch when he pulls back to look at her and flushes slightly, suddenly thankful that the only light in the room is what’s filtering in through the window.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, before leaning in to take a pert nipple in his mouth.

Emma whimpers at the sensations flooding her as she removes a hand from Killian’s shoulder and raises it to tease her unattended breast. He gently pushes her hand away after a moment, replacing it with his mouth, her fingers burying themselves in his hair.

Emma whines when he pulls away, feeling the rumble of his chuckle against her skin. He somehow manages to switch their positions and soon she is the one laying on the bed looking up at him (and god _damn_ , is he ever gorgeous).

He removes both of her shoes, throwing them haphazardly onto the carpeted floor, before quickly kissing his way back up her body and falling into the cradle of her legs.

“Too many clothes,” she mumbles between kisses as she tugs at the buttons of his shirt.

He chuckles once more before taking pity on her and sitting up to remove the shirt himself. She bites back a moan at the sight of him (because no guy she’d ever met in a _bar_ was _this_ gorgeous, what the hell). Her hands roam across the smooth skin of his chest, the coarse hair tickling her skin, as he moves over her again for another kiss and slips back down her body. He halts at her stomach, dipping his tongue quickly into her bellybutton before hooking his fingers around the tops of her underwear and sliding them slowly down her legs.

She’s so overwhelmed at the sensations and emotions flooding through her (it’s been a _while_ for her, okay), she doesn’t even realize where this is headed until he’s _there_. Her surprised gasp turns into a loud moan as his mouth descends on her, his warm tongue swirling rapidly around her clit. Her fingers fall to tangle his hair when he inserts a finger into her, slowly pumping it in and out, his tongue still circling her nub. She arches her back and murmurs his name, her grip on his hair tightening as he continues to work her, inserting a second finger and curling them to reach that special spot within her. And just like that, she’s coming, exploding around his fingers as his tongue gently brings her down.

Killian kisses her inner thigh as she catches her breath, causing her heart to stutter in her chest.

“You alright, lass?” he teases softly, a smug smirk on his face as he crawls up the length of her body.

Her competitive side chooses that moment to kick in, her eyes flashing dangerously as she hooks her leg around his and uses the leverage to push him onto his back.

“My turn,” she breathes, smirking wickedly as she makes quick work of his shoes and pants.

His broken groan when she takes him in her hand sends a small surge of pride through her. She leans over him, her breath fanning out across his sensitive skin as she glances at him through her lashes. He’s propped up on his elbows watching her, his body tense with anticipation, as she holds his gaze and slowly swirls her tongue across his tip. He falls back onto the bed and groans again, a litany of whispered curses spilling from his lips as she drags her tongue along the underside of his cock. Soon after, his fingers are twisted in her hair and her name is spilling from his lips like a prayer as she leisurely works him with her mouth and hands. She moans around him as his fingers tighten in her hair, triggering another string of curses.

“Emma, love,” he pleads, his voice obviously strained, “Please, I don’t—“

She pulls him from her mouth with a pop and licks her lips, savoring the salty tang of him on her tongue.

He sighs at the loss of her mouth and struggles to catch his breath. “Give us a moment, love,” he asks, running a hand through his hair.

She chuckles at him and slowly crawls up his body until they’re face to face. “What’s the matter, sailor? Too much for you to handle?” she teases, resting her hand on his chest.

He huffs a breathy laugh and swallows thickly, his gaze falling to her mouth. “Not at all,” he assures her, tangling a hand in her hair and bringing her lips to meet his.

How she ends up on her back again, she can’t recall (this entire experience has been one big, heady blur, if she’s being honest), but he’s sliding against her center and moaning into her mouth as she cradles him between her thighs. And then he’s nudging her entrance and her breath is catching and they’re clutching each other like there’s nothing else to hold onto. She keens loudly at the feel of him dragging against her inner walls, the fire within her gradually growing into an inferno as his hand slides between them to stoke the flames. He drives into her hard, panting against her neck and gripping her ass as she digs her nails into his shoulders and her feet into his back.

“Come for me, Emma,” he growls, tongue flicking out to run along her pulse point.

And then suddenly she’s _there_ and she’s groaning into his ear as the proverbial fireworks explode within her and she’s fluttering around him, his hands gripping her hips and surely leaving bruises as he continues to pound into her seeking his own release. She feels him still as she’s in the midst of floating down, his sated, svelte body pressing her deliciously into the mattress.

“Bloody hell,” Killian mutters into her shoulder, still struggling to catch his breath.

Emma chuckles breathlessly and inhales deeply, the musky scent of sweat and sex assaulting her senses. “Same here,” she says, blinking sleepily as her heart returns to its normal rate.

She feels Killian roll off of her and pull her against his side (cuddling isn’t really her _thing,_ but she’s far too tired to argue right now). She closes her eyes as a calm settles over her, the tendrils of sleep gradually pulling her under.

She knows she should ask him to leave, but she’s _tired_ and he’s warm and the sound of his steady heart beat is soothing. So when he asks, she merely burrows further into his side and allows sleep to claim her, distantly registering the press of his lips to her forehead as he whispers “Happy New Year, Emma.”

**Author's Note:**

> Review (pretty please)?


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